


Bait and Switch

by nekoshka



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Canon-typical language, Dead Terry Milkovich, Dirty Talk, Excessive Swearing, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Porn with Feelings, Sex Tapes (sort of), Sexting (sort of), phone pranks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekoshka/pseuds/nekoshka
Summary: When Mickey forgets his phone at Ian's apartment, Ian stumbles across an eye-opening video.  It inspires him to make a video of his own.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 36
Kudos: 300





	Bait and Switch

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote the characters in their mid-20s but i've only watched S1-4 where they're still teens, so that might show in the fic. Hopefully there's nothing too wildly OOC, but if something is, i'm ok with people telling me (kindly!) Also despite the title, nobody gets scammed lol
> 
> thanks to thewesterndoor for beta reading/cheerleading - you're the best! ❤️
> 
> inspiration for this came from the Shingeki no Kyojin fic Red Handed by sciencefictioness.

Ian pulled on a faded pair of sweats and stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, his skin prickling with relief. He padded barefoot to the kitchen and filled a glass from the tap, then chugged the whole thing messily, lukewarm water spilling out the sides and dripping down his chin. 

Even though it was mid-July and their tiny A/C unit barely kept them sane most days, Ian took scalding hot showers. Mandy gave him shit for it, but she was one of those freaks who liked to sleep with the blankets over her head, so she wasn’t one to talk. 

After starting a pot of coffee, Ian popped a bagel in the toaster and then went to his bedroom to grab the joint and lighter from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He started to reach for a shirt, but changed his mind—the risk of boiling to death in his own sweat was high enough as it was. Instead, he headed back into the living room, gaze darting around for the xbox controller. For once it was on its charger where it was supposed to be, and he held the power button to boot up the console as he fell backwards onto the couch.

Maybe he’d get lucky and Lip would be online. Or Shayna, another trainer at the gym. She was a beast with a shotgun, and he was pretty sure she didn’t work Saturdays. Mickey would’ve been his first choice, but Ian knew he’d probably sleep late since he’d worked the night before.

Thinking about Mickey made Ian’s stomach flutter, and he did his best to shove the feeling down. He toyed with the joint in his hand, twirling it between his fingers.

The best and worst thing about moving in with Mandy had been getting to know her brother. Ian had always known _of_ Mickey, but only because everyone from their neighbourhood did—Terry Milkovich was even more notorious than Frank, and his arsenal of kids weren’t far behind. But Ian hadn’t _known_ Mickey. He hadn’t known that Mickey talked with his mouth full, something everyone else thought was gross but Ian didn’t mind, like when you see one of those dogs with the scrunched-up faces and they’re ugly and cute at the same time. He hadn’t known what it was like to sit side-by-side with Mickey, passing cheap whiskey back and forth while they traded off in GTA 5, Mickey’s words starting to slur as his sharp edges softened to something almost friendly and their bodies inched closer and closer on Ian’s curbside-rescue couch.

Now, Mickey was second only to Mandy when it came to the people Ian counted as friends. He still lived with his brother Iggy in Terry’s old place, but the club where he’d started working as a bouncer was closer to Ian and Mandy’s building than the Milkovich house, so he crashed there pretty often. Ian liked to think it was partly because of him, but he knew it was just more convenient. That, and because Mickey and Mandy didn’t actually hate spending time together, despite what they'd have people believe.

Not many of his friends were online and he was still waiting on his breakfast, so Ian flicked the lighter open. Before he could light up though, a phone on the side table caught his eye. It didn’t look like his or Mandy’s, so he flipped it over, instantly recognizing the cheesy claw slashes on the case. Mickey hadn’t bothered switching the thing out after he swiped the phone off Mandy’s dumbass ex.

His first thought was to text Mickey, letting him know where his phone was. 

_Real smart, Gallagher,_ his brain said in a familiar voice.

He’d just text Iggy. Mandy could send him the number, but she wouldn’t see a message from Ian until she got a break— _if_ she got a break—so he’d just look for it in Mickey’s contacts. He was willing to bet there wasn’t even a passcode. Or if there was, it'd be something stupid like 6969.

Sure enough, in seconds Ian was looking at Mickey’s home screen and the few apps he’d bothered to install. No social media, just the basics. Well, and Candy Crush, which was a bit surprising. Thinking of Mickey making his way through the fucking gumdrop village or whatever on his break from roughing up drunk assholes had a laugh bubbling up from Ian’s chest before he could stop it.

Finding Iggy’s number in Mickey’s short list of contacts was easy, but Ian paused with his thumb hovering over the message icon. He had to fuck with Mickey’s phone in this situation, right? He couldn’t _not_ fuck with it. 

Ian grinned as he closed Iggy’s contact info. Before long, he’d changed Mickey’s homepage to a lesbian hentai site and was shaking with silent laughter as he made up some creative texting shortcuts. He couldn’t wait for the next time Mickey tried to call him by his usual nickname and realized ‘firecrotch’ had become ‘sex god.’ Ian was going to screencap that shit and hold it over him for life.

His last point of attack was the lock screen, and Ian opened the camera app to take a selfie, cocking an eyebrow in a way that said “you deserved this” before setting the picture as Mickey’s wallpaper. He was about to pull up Iggy’s contact again when he noticed there was a video thumbnail in the camera roll.

Weird. Mickey hardly ever used his phone. Apart from the dumb selfie Ian had just taken and an equally dumb selfie of Mandy’s, there weren’t even any pictures.

_What would Mickey have a video of?_

He was opening the file before his brain had finished processing the action. The screen was a blur of motion, and he heard a soft rustling sound followed by Mickey’s face and chest coming into view. Mickey’s bare, well-muscled chest.

_Fuck._

The picture was shaky, but it looked like Mickey was in his bedroom. At least, Ian was pretty sure he recognized the poster over Mickey’s shoulder as the one above his bed. He’d only seen Mickey’s room a couple of times, but apparently those glimpses had been enough to greedily drink in every detail. Even before he'd wanted Mickey like that, back when Mickey was just one of Mandy’s asshole brothers, there’d been something about him made Ian want to know more.

The screen got steadier, and judging by the angle Ian figured the phone must be propped up against something on the bed. Then Mickey leaned back against the wall, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Because Mickey was _naked_ , and everything Ian had been imagining for so long was _right there_ , and somehow it was even better than he’d been picturing all this time.

Smooth pale skin. Pinkish-brown nipples. The cut of Mickey’s abs, not as sharply defined as Ian’s but still impressive as hell. A dark trail of hair leading to the most perfect cock Ian had ever seen. 

A few months back, Ian had overheard Mickey’s brothers ripping on him for having a small dick, and maybe he wasn’t huge, but he was fucking _gorgeous_ and Ian had never been more desperate to get his mouth on someone, to just bury his face between Mickey’s legs and swallow him down until Mickey was coming hot and salty into his throat.

Mickey’s hand reached off-screen and came back slick and shiny. He was hard, and when he took hold of his cock to pump it a few times, his eyes fluttering shut, Ian felt lightheaded with how fast all his blood raced south.

 _“Fuck,”_ Ian said, loud enough that the sound of his own voice jolted him out of his head.

Mickey had filmed himself jacking off. Which meant he must’ve sent it to someone. Someone that wasn’t Ian.

Ian felt his gut twist. He’d been starting to think…maybe it was stupid, but lately Ian had been thinking there might actually be something there. Between them. Mickey gave him this look sometimes, almost—

There was a low moan from the speaker, a breathy rumbling sound that sent a shockwave pulsing through Ian’s veins. He’d always wondered what Mickey would sound like, and now he knew. He knew, and he'd never be able to _un_ -know. 

Ian was so fucking hard it hurt. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been gripping himself through his sweats until he instinctively started pressing his hips into it. Shit, he shouldn’t be watching this. He needed to close the video, try to forget he ever saw it.

“ _Fuuuuck,_ Ian.”

Ian felt his brain short-circuit. 

_No. No way._

He paused the video, dragging the progress bar back a few seconds. There was that rumbling moan again, sending another bolt of heat through him. He held his breath. Waiting.

And then… “ _Fuuuuck,_ Ian.”

“Holy fuck,” Ian breathed. He was barely aware of his movements as he yanked his sweatpants down over his cock, pausing only to spit into his palm before he was stroking himself fast and rough.

It hadn’t felt like this since he was thirteen and first discovered jerking off. Like every nerve ending was electric. He set the phone down against his raised thigh, freeing up his other hand to make a tight fist at the base of his cock as he forced himself to slow down—if he didn’t calm his shit, this would be over almost before it began. But then Mickey let his legs fall open wider to tease at his slicked-up rim and without warning buried two fingers in his ass, the C and K sinking into his body, and that was it. Ian lost it. He choked on a gasp as thick bursts of cum streaked his chest and neck, a small amount pooling at his collarbone and dripping down his side.

Breathing harshly, he focused his attention back on the screen, not wanting to miss a second of the scene still playing out. Mickey was all but riding his fingers now, his hips rolling with the motions of his hand as he added one more. His ass looked so incredible stretched around three fingers that Ian’s cock gave a sad twitch at being benched from the game early, one last dribble of cum leaking out in protest. He was starting to soften, but went back to stroking himself slowly as Mickey’s breathing sped up and the hand not busy fucking his ass started moving lightning-fast over his cock.

Mickey’s fractured groan when he came was pure sex, and Ian felt it like a hot knife to the gut despite having just come, his stomach clenching almost painfully.

“Fucking hell,” he said under his breath. 

This was going to be the shortest refractory period in history.

\- A few days later -

Mickey kicked off his shoes and made his way to the kitchen, past the table where Iggy was inhaling a bowl of fruit loops.

“Thought you were working today,” Mickey said in greeting.

“Bailed,” Iggy said, giving Mickey an eyeful of the rainbow mush on his tongue. “Gon’ out wi’ Mrisha.” Marissa was Iggy’s latest girlfriend, and Mickey hoped this one stuck because she was way out of his league. 

Mickey grimaced. “Don’t need to see that shit, man.”

Iggy gave him a look that clearly said _you’re one to talk._ He took another spoonful and chewed it noisily.

“Don’ ashk me shtuff when ’m eatin’ then.”

Mickey just gave him the finger and headed to his room. It was the same room he’d had since he was a kid, down to the cardboard sign on the door telling everyone to _STAY THE FUCK OUT_. At least the house had more than one working toilet these days, so Mickey didn’t have to worry about Iggy busting in while his dick was in his hand.

Not that there was much risk of that lately, what with how he’d been picking up all the shifts he could get his hands on. And seeing as he’d made exactly zero effort to get laid since…well, since figuring out the only cock he wanted was attached to a loudmouth fucking ginger, Mickey was dealing with a major case of blue balls.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flopped onto his bed, rolling onto his side. Years of sharing a house with aggressive homophobes meant that he was used to jacking off with nothing more than his internal spank bank to get him going, but lately his mind kept circling back to one person, so…Pornhub it was.

Ian’s smug fucking grin blinked to life on his lock screen as his phone woke up, and Mickey’s lips twitched with the effort not to smile. He’d change it tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.

He pulled up a browser window, only to be assaulted by gifs of balloon-chested girls rubbing their cartoon tits all over each other. He cursed loudly, almost dropping the phone.

_Christ, too fucking far, Ian…_

At least it was just tits. Mickey couldn’t look at a vagina without seeing the face-hugger things from _Alien_. Creepy-ass motherfuckers gave him some twisted nightmares as a kid.

Luckily—no thanks to Ian for once—he was still horny as hell. Mickey reached into his bedside drawer and fumbled around for the lube. Out in the hall, he could hear Iggy laughing loudly on the phone, but his brother’s voice cut off suddenly with the heavy slam of the front door. 

Perfect timing. Now he could make as much noise as he wanted.

One hand popped the button on his jeans as the other scrolled through a series of thumbnails. He was half-hard just from the anticipation of finally getting off, and even the whisper of contact when he brushed up against the bulge in his pants had him twitching in his boxers.

Fuck, it really had been too long. The last time must’ve been…

Mickey froze, ice crawling up his spine.

Just _once_ , on a stupid impulse, he’d let himself imagine Ian watching him. He’d made that faggy video, part of him wishing he had the balls to send it, the other part just getting off on how Ian might react if he did…

 _Shit. Motherfucking_ shit.Had he deleted the damn thing? He didn’t think so… _fuckfuckFUCK_ could Ian have seen it?

No—he would’ve started acting weird around Mickey. No way he could ignore something like that.

Just as his pulse was returning to normal, Mickey remembered how quiet Ian had been when he gave the phone back, the way he’d cut his gaze off to the side. He hadn’t thought too much about it—Ian sometimes got a bit distant when his meds weren’t cutting it, and normally Mickey just tried to give him space. But looking back, was that really all it was?

Flushed face. Awkwardly shifting his weight. Looking anywhere but at Mickey.

Was he… _embarrassed?_ Mickey’s shaking fingers sprang back into action. Maybe the video wasn’t there. Maybe he’d deleted it after all, and he was panicking for nothing.

But no. There it was. Except…now there was a second one next to it, one he didn’t remember taking. His heart pounded furiously as he tapped the thumbnail.

And then it stopped beating.

There was Ian, wearing a cute lopsided smile, but with something unfamiliar behind it—something darker. He was shirtless and flushed all the way down to his chest, which looked slick in places, streaked with…was that…

Something in Mickey’s chest gave a sharp twist. And then Ian’s low voice came through the speaker, rough in a way Mickey had never heard it.

“Got carried away,” Ian said, gesturing at the mess on his skin. “You’re too fucking hot, Mick.” 

Mickey’s breath gusted out in a rush. Just like that, he’d gone from half-mast to painfully hard. 

Playful green eyes glinted with something Mickey couldn’t name right before the camera angle changed, tilting as Ian set it down in front of him. His bent knee blocked the lens for a couple of seconds, and then he was leaning back on what Mickey could now tell was the couch in his apartment. The very same couch Mickey had crashed on just last weekend. But that’s not the detail he was stuck on.

One of Ian’s feet was up on the coffee table, his huge, hard cock jutting out from between his spread legs in all its glory.

It wasn’t news that Ian was hung like a god. Mickey had always been careful not to let his eyes wander below the waist, but Ian seemed to have a thing for going commando in sweatpants, so of course he’d catch the occasional glimpse of what Ian was packing. Still, there was a difference between knowing and actually seeing, and even after months of fantasizing the real thing did not disappoint.

If he had to guess, Mickey would say Ian was a good nine inches at least. The tip of his cock glistened with moisture, and Mickey couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more in that moment than lick it off. He’d only given head to a couple of guys, but he knew he fucking loved it, and those guys had nothing on Ian.

_Bet he knows how to use that thing, too._

He watched as Ian stroked himself slowly—long, teasing pulls without much intent behind them. His other hand cupped his balls, squeezing lightly. And then he started talking again.

“Get your cock out, Mickey.”

Mickey groaned out loud, scrambling to tug his jeans and boxers down. He almost left them halfway on, tempted to go straight for his dick, but then realized that if he couldn’t have Ian inside of him _right fucking now_ , he was going to need something else in his ass. After tossing his pants and boxers to the floor, he squirted a liberal amount of lube into his hand, slicking up his fingers.

“God, you’re so hot… you have no idea,” Ian was saying. “Fucking came all over myself. That _ass_ , jesus _fuck_ —” his hand was moving faster now, twisting as he palmed the head of his dick with every few strokes. “Wanna… _mmnh_ , fuckin’ wreck that ass. Gonna _wreck_ _it_ …”

Mickey didn’t trust himself to touch his cock, so he settled for just grasping it loosely as he worked two fingers into his ass, rubbing at his prostate with practiced strokes. He could feel his orgasm building steadily and focused on the stretch, the slight burn. He would need a lot of prep if he wanted to take Ian…

Feeling ambitious, Mickey wriggled a third finger in alongside the first two, his eyes fixed on Ian’s hand as it worked over his erection. Mickey could _have that_. Anytime he wanted. 

If Ian wanted him back, this was fucking on.

Maybe he’d go over there today. Jerk off now to take the edge off, then bend over Ian’s couch, let him pound Mickey’s ass until it was sore. And then after he could hold Ian down, ride that thick cock all fucking night if he wanted. He wondered if Ian would run his mouth this much when they fucked for real, and the thought had him bucking up into his fist. 

_Shit._ Mickey hoped Ian was close, because he couldn’t drag this out much longer.

As if he was reading Mickey’s thoughts, Ian gave a low, throaty groan as he thrust a few more times into his fist and then came in long, thick pulses, adding to the slick mess on his chest.

Mickey finally let himself touch his cock, tugging it roughly as he brought himself off on his fingers. With the visual he had in front of him, it didn’t take long. A trickle of cum traced the ridge of Ian’s abs as he played with his softening cock, and then he took his lower lip between his teeth, looking almost embarrassed again. Later, it was going to be Mickey biting that lip, and…fuck, licking the cum off those _fucking_ abs…

Static filled Mickey’s brain, his heart pounding in his ears as he had one of the best orgasms of his life. He was still breathing hard when Ian looked straight into the camera with a smirk, seemingly finding his usual confidence again.

“Come get it, Mick.”

And then the screen went dark.

Mickey was up and throwing on his clothes, ready to book it to Ian’s right that second, when he realized Ian would still be at work. And he didn’t know what Mandy was up to, but he needed to make sure she was out before he went over there, or she’d be getting an eyeful of her roommate balls deep in her brother. Mandy knew Mickey fucked dudes, but that didn’t mean she wanted front row seats to the party.

Ian would be off in a couple hours. That gave him more than enough time to shower and tell Mandy to fuck off for the night. He didn’t feel too bad about it—Mandy had sexiled him often enough back in the day. The only downside was she’d probably see right through whatever lie he told her and start badgering him with questions. Nosy bitch.

Eh. If he got Ian’s cock out of the deal, it was worth it.

\- A few hours later -

The first thing Ian did after kicking off his shoes was strip off his sweaty shirt and make a beeline for the shower. Eight hours at the gym followed by a packed trip on the L and a sweltering walk home from the station had him feeling pretty ripe, and on top of that, he was desperate to work off some tension after another day of being half-hard for the better part of his shift.

Since Saturday, Ian had been twitchy and on edge, his stomach either churning with fear or swarming with butterflies. It felt like he was in freefall waiting to splatter all over the pavement. Why the hell this shitty plan ever seemed like a good idea, he didn’t know. Handing over the phone and then just watching Mickey walk away had been a fucking triumph of willpower, but Ian had been sure the payoff would be worth it. Now though, he was starting to lose his mind. If Mickey hadn’t found the video by tomorrow, Ian was going to have to tip him off.

He pushed down the anxious voice that said Mickey could’ve already found it, that maybe Ian had gotten it all wrong and Mickey didn’t want him like that, or not anymore. That maybe the first video had even been meant for someone else…his name wasn’t _that_ uncommon…

Mickey had noticed the lock screen pretty quick, sending him a text that just read _think your funny huh._ It just about gave Ian a heart attack before he’d realized it was too soon for Mickey to have found the video. He’d almost caved and booty called him right there, giving away the whole game.

Maybe he should have. Fuck.

He was fiddling with the water temperature in the shower when someone started pounding on the front door loud enough to be heard over the spray. Heart leaping into his throat, he turned off the water, and moments later he heard it again. Based on the aggressiveness of the knocking alone, Ian was pretty sure he knew who it was, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Ey, open up.” Mickey’s voice had Ian’s breath catching in his throat. He stole a quick glance at the mirror and then, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths, went to the door.

He barely had a second to register how criminally hot Mickey looked standing there in a sleeveless grey shirt and gnawing at his plump lower lip before Mickey was on him, kicking the door shut behind him and pinning Ian to the wall to drag him into a rough, filthy kiss.

“Fucking dick,” he said between kisses, hot breath gusting over Ian’s cheek.

Ian just laughed, arms winding around Mickey to pull him closer and hands skimming over his back, thrilling at the flex of muscle they found there. When he ventured lower, grabbing generous handfuls of Mickey’s ass, Mickey pulled back and started working at the button on Ian’s jeans.

“You proud of yourself?”

“Yep,” Ian shot back as he started to fumble with Mickey’s belt. 

“Dick,” Mickey said again. Before Ian could get his belt off, Mickey was dropping to his knees and yanking Ian’s jeans and boxers down, a hungry look in his eyes that Ian could feel like a touch. Ian swore under his breath, then let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a yelp when Mickey attacked him with his mouth, taking him more than halfway in one go. 

Ian’s hands flexed uselessly at his sides, his head thudding back against the wall. He wanted to watch more than anything, but that was a recipe for disaster if he wanted to last long enough to fuck Mickey. 

Even without the visual, that was going to be a problem. If the soft grunts and moans Mickey kept failing to hold back were any indication, sucking Ian’s dick was possibly the greatest thing he’d ever done, and his enthusiasm was getting Ian off even more than the blowjob itself. Not only that, but he could feel the vibrations of Mickey’s throat around his cock and it was fucking incredible.

He nudged Mickey’s forehead, encouraging him to pull back. When Mickey looked up, his eyes were noticeably darker, his lips puffy and wet.

“Bed,” Ian said, breathing hard.

For a second Mickey looked like he might argue, but then he got to his feet, stripping off his shirt as he crossed the room. Instead of continuing to Ian’s bedroom though, he stopped to lean on the arm of the couch.

“Something wrong with right here?” Mickey’s voice was raspy, and knowing the reason why only made it hotter.

“Mandy—”

“Nah man,” Mickey cut him off, eyes heated. “Told her to fuck off for the night.” He picked up where Ian had left off in trying to undress him, letting his belt hang loose and tugging his pants down before the zip was even fully open. The result was that his boxers came partway down too, exposing sharp hipbones along with a distracting path of black hair. Even when Mickey was straight to business, he found a way to tease Ian. 

In the process of kicking his jeans off, Mickey stumbled back onto the couch. Ian almost laughed, then realized he wasn’t much better off standing there with his dick out. He stepped out of his jeans and briefs while Mickey shucked his boxers and tossed them carelessly to the side.

Then it was just the two of them, stark naked and eyeing each other up. Mickey still looked like he wanted to devour Ian whole, and Ian was pretty sure his own face showed something similar. He stepped closer, pushing Mickey’s legs apart so he could half sit, half kneel between them on the couch. Then, because he couldn’t resist, he ducked down to leave biting kisses on the inside of one thigh. He was expecting to get told off loudly and creatively but Mickey just gasped, the muscles of his stomach leaping under Ian’s fingers, so Ian did the same to the other thigh before abruptly dragging the flat of his tongue up Mickey’s cock.

“ _Ah!_ Shit,” Mickey bit out, his hands finding their way into Ian’s short hair and trying to tug. He seemed to settle for dragging his fingers along Ian’s scalp when he couldn’t get a decent grip, and Ian nearly groaned with how good it felt. He bobbed his head a few times before relaxing his throat and taking Mickey all the way, nuzzling into the hair at the base of his cock and inhaling deeply through his nose. Then he did groan. Fuck, he _loved_ the way Mickey smelled. When he pulled off and slipped a finger between Mickey’s cheeks, Ian found him slick with lube and had to muffle an embarrassing sound in the crease of Mickey’s thigh. 

“You stretch yourself?” he said after he got his voice back.

Mickey gave an affirmative grunt, and when Ian glanced up, he would’ve thought he looked almost bored if not for his flushed cheeks and laboured breathing. “So y’know. Anytime now.”

“What, you don’t like this?” Ian said, unable to keep the grin off his face.

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked up in response. “Didn’t say _that._ ” 

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Ian said before going to take Mickey in his mouth again. Mickey stopped him with a hand to his forehead, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. After a second, he muttered that he didn’t want to come yet.

“What?” Ian said, just to be a dick.

“Don’t. Wanna. Come.” Mickey said louder. “Asshole.”

Ian felt a dark curl of satisfaction in knowing Mickey was close, especially since right now he didn’t have much faith in his own staying power. But as desperate as he was to taste Mickey, Ian was so fucking wound up that he doubted he’d have time to get him hard again after, let alone make him come a second time.

He squeezed Mickey’s firm thighs. “Yeah, want you to come when I fuck you,” he said. “I wanna feel it.”

Ian saw Mickey’s ab muscles twitch again before he replied, “Get the fuck on with it then.” 

When he saw Mickey starting to roll over, Ian stopped him, playfully flipping him back into his original position. Not that doggy style didn’t sound fucking amazing, but he’d been waiting so long for this, it would feel like a crime if he couldn’t see Mickey’s face. 

Mickey cocked an eyebrow, smirking at Ian in a way that made his cheeks go hot.

“Missionary huh? Full of surprises, firecrotch.” He dragged his hands up Ian’s ass and sides to pull him closer, blunt fingernails scratching lightly. “You got a rosary too? ’Cause we could put those beads to good use.”

Ian let his forehead drop to Mickey’s stomach, a rush of laughter spilling from somewhere deep in his chest. God, he fucking loved Mickey Milkovich.

“Just saying,” Mickey added.

“Maybe next time. Fuck—ah, shit.”

“What?”

“Gotta get a condom.” In the state Ian was in, his bedside table seemed miles away.

Mickey’s tongue poked at his cheek in the way Ian loved, his shoulders lifting in a half-shrug. “I always used them. Before. So if…”

“Yeah, me too.” Ian had gotten himself tested after his string of manic episodes and the shitty decision making that came with them, and since then he’d been careful. He knew it wasn’t a failsafe but right now it was close enough.

They locked eyes briefly, and then Ian was hooking his arms under Mickey’s knees and lifting his legs, awkwardly using one hand to position himself at the same time.

“You know this would’ve been more comfortable on a bed, right?” Not that Ian wouldn’t take Mickey any way he could get him, but the couch wouldn’t have been his first choice.

Mickey’s reply was silenced when Ian’s cock dragged over the cleft of his ass, sliding through the dampness there with blissful friction. His breath hitched and Ian felt a rush of pleasure at the sound.

“Yeah?” Ian heard himself say, his throat feeling dry. Mickey made a gruff noise, shifting his hips for a better angle, and Ian pressed forward until the tip of his cock slipped past the initial resistance. 

Ian was so turned on he was half-tempted to start rambling about the most boring subject he could think of, just for something to focus on other than the perfect heat and tightness of Mickey’s ass. He realized he’d stopped moving when Mickey nipped lightly at his neck, just above his collarbone, then slapped one of his ass cheeks and squeezed it at the same time that he rolled his hips to take him deeper. “Let’s go, Gallagher.”

Ian bit back a laugh, feeling sort of like a racehorse getting a swat to the flank, but he did move, thrusting shallowly a couple of times until his hips were pressed up against Mickey’s ass. Even with the slightly awkward angle, it felt unbelievably good. He could feel his balls drawing up and buried his face in Mickey’s neck to distract himself, leaving open-mouthed kisses from his jaw up to his earlobe. Once he felt like he was in control, he set a steady pace, pumping his hips in deep, smooth thrusts as he aimed for Mickey’s prostate.

The way Mickey swore under his breath when he found it had Ian going still while he fought back the urge to come right there. When he started moving again, Mickey moved with him, wordlessly urging Ian to go faster, harder. Ian felt dizzy with how hot it was.

“Fuck, you take it so good,” he said breathily. “Fucking _knew_ you would. Wanted this… _god_ , wanted you so much,” Ian’s pace picked up until he was all but slamming into Mickey, their skin slapping. Mickey made a choked sound in his ear like he was trying to keep quiet, his legs wrapping around Ian’s hips and one heel digging hard into his ass. Ian took it as encouragement. He could feel the point of no return creeping up on him, but he wanted Mickey to come first. Make good on his promise. 

Their bodies were pressed closely enough that Ian could feel every twitch of the erection leaking against his belly. Instead of pulling back to jerk Mickey off, he went back to shorter, shallower thrusts, focusing on giving Mickey’s cock as much friction as he could.

It backfired. Mickey’s low, rumbling moan was _so much better_ in person than over Ian’s tinny phone speakers. Ian was tumbling over the edge before he had any hope of stopping it, his hips jerking as he all but sobbed out his orgasm into the warm, sweat-damp skin of Mickey’s neck. He was pretty sure that whatever sounds he made were far from flattering, but his skin was tingling, his mind beautifully empty for once in his fucking life, and he didn’t care. This was perfect. Mickey was perfect.

Fuck— _Mickey._ Ian still needed to get him off.

“Y’ a’ight there?” Mickey said a bit shakily.

“God yes,” Ian said, forcing his jelly-like limbs to move so that he could fit a hand between them and finish Mickey off. He caught Mickey’s lips in another kiss at the same time that he cupped his cock and rubbed over the head with the flat of his palm, intending to let Mickey fuck his fist but not quite getting that far. Before he had the chance to take him in hand, Mickey was throbbing under Ian’s palm, pulses of hot cum spilling between them. The way Mickey’s ass gripped Ian’s cock when he came had Ian gasping into Mickey’s mouth with that feeling of _too much_ , but he’d always kind of liked the pleasure-pain of it. Mickey's mouth fell open around Ian’s as he panted through it, his eyes moving restlessly behind his lids, which were closed tightly enough to put a cute furrow between his brows. Ian knew Mickey would probably kill him for thinking anything about him was cute, but he couldn’t help it. 

Ian kissed Mickey’s cheek as he came down, following it with a soft bite to the jaw so Mickey wouldn’t think he was getting sappy. He tried to get his expression under control, but when Mickey’s eyes fluttered open again, he knew he was still grinning like a madman. 

“Fuck,” Mickey said. His voice sounded wrecked.

“Yeah,” Ian said, sated laughter in his voice. They made out for a few minutes, taking their time in a way they’d been too worked up to do before. 

When they heard the doorknob rattling, Ian had just enough time to pull a cushion down over his ass before Mandy stepped through the door. She still yelped and covered her eyes when she saw them, her handbag falling off her shoulder to hang from her forearm.

“What the fuck?” Mickey yelled. “Thought I told you to fuck off, bitch.”

“I forgot my fucking wallet ok? I didn’t think you guys would be doing it on the _couch._ Next time fuck in Ian’s bedroom if you don’t want to get caught.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey muttered.

Ian just laughed. “Sorry Mands.”

“Yeah whatever, you’re paying for my fucking therapy,” Mandy said. She grabbed her wallet from the kitchen counter, heels clicking on the floor, and shoved it in her bag before heading back the way she’d come. Before the door could close behind her, her wrist shot out at the last minute and her face reappeared in the narrow opening.

“Oh, and Mickey, maybe learn how to lie? Pretty sure I’d know if my own apartment was being fumigated,” she said before the door slammed shut.

Ian buried his laughter in Mickey’s armpit. “Fumigated?” he said finally, looking up.

“Not like she wouldn’t know the real reason anyway,” he said defensively. “Figured this way she’d read between the lines and not ask questions.” Ian was willing to bet the pink in Mickey’s cheeks was as much from embarrassment at the half-assed lie as it was from exertion.

“So, we boyfriends now?” Ian said, taking pity on him and changing the subject.

“You want to be?”

“Maybe I do.” Ian’s cheeks were starting to hurt from grinning so much.

“Well, ask me again when you’re not still inside me, jackass.”

**Author's Note:**

> full disclosure, the line about the face huggers from Alien comes from something one of my irl friends said.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are loved! ❤️💕


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